


Knives, Guns and Fuck-Me Boots

by orphan_account



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse References, Drama, Drugs, Gunplay, Minor Character Death, Romance, Violence, drug references, th_fanfic FQF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:43:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georg is the leader of the gang known simply as, ‘The Company’ with his old friend and right hand man Anis Ferchichi, aka Bushido. Georg often had pretty boys hanging on his arms. Hey, if it was good enough for Ronnie Kray then it was good enough for him.</p><p>Thing is, like with Ronnie, pretty boys are fine, but when Georg got the feeling that he’d really like to be bent over his desk by Bushido, pretending to come out of that situation as the top man was a little less easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knives, Guns and Fuck-Me Boots

**Author's Note:**

> For the th_fanfic 2012 Georg FQF: Georg/Bushido: I want bad boy Georg. No really. Mercenary, killer... thief... gang-member... whatever you think he'd fit the best for. His partner in crime (or maybe boss?) is Bushido... Question is... Who bosses around who? And is the deadly banter really as deadly as it sounds? Really. Will they kill each other or fuck each others brains out? Good question... - prompt by kseenaa
> 
> A huge weight of gratitude to Momo for her help when I came unstuck very early on.

Georg didn’t like this part of the job. Not out of some sense of morality or fear of recompense, but just because it was...

Well frankly it was mess.

And messy.

Just not suited to Georg’s tastes at all. He much preferred to keep things clean, pristine and organised. Everything about him was ordered, from his well heeled look to the insistence that Anis, his best friend and bodyguard, remained stoic and quiet at all times. Except on the occasions where he wanted to inject a little chaos.

Today, however, was not one of those days; today he had wanted to keep things nice and neat. That’s why he had worn the newly pressed designer suit specially. He had anticipated a simple day where the business ticked along as per usual and he could just sit behind his desk and enjoy the little bit of darkness that rolled, a constant undercurrent, through his world. There were no acquisitions planned, no transactions and definitely no hostilities.

But _someone_ had to go and make a mess of that little ideal.

This particular someone came in the form of a particularly vile man called Sido. Georg wasn’t a very nice man. He knew it, most of the time he revelled in it, but he was nasty because, in his not so humble opinion, he was, unlike the majority of the criminals who lived in the area, exceptionally bright and not a little insane. What _Sido_ did however was particularly disgusting and it fell well outside the bounds of the chaotic misdemeanours that Georg favoured. Sido’s particular brand of evil was selfish and premeditated, thought upon for long hours to ensure it was effective.

Georg almost had to applaud how simple and efficient it was, if it weren’t for the fact that he hated sick little crimes like this one he might have even asked in on it. The additional fact that Sido dared to bring these indelicate matters to his attention on what was supposed to be a calm day just caused Georg to be enraged even further.

“So what was it you did this time?” He asked the man directly. Sido wasn’t going to harm him right now; he only had one of his guards with him and the boy was only young. Being in handcuffs and having all of his weapons taken off him helped calm Sido down as well.

“I do what I have to, to protect my turf.”

Georg tilted his head to the side in mock confusion, “Or not. I believe the shooting happened on _my_ corner of town sweetie.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He spat, hands still restrained. “You don’t deserve to run this town. You’re pathetic.”

“Hit a nerve have we? At least I don’t drug up pre-teens to train as bodyguards who’ll fight for their next hit. How is your little pet by the way?” He said pointing to the beautiful boy with far too big eyes - impossible to believe he was capable of such harm for a quick fix. The kid was starting to shake. He’d probably start going properly into withdrawal soon. Anis’d have to ask someone to take care of that.

“Don’t question what I do. I should be the one in that chair, not you.”

“I think we’re all civilised men aren’t we?” he insisted, “I think we can think of some way to prevent any more antagonism. I take it very much as a personal affront when someone, unprovoked, kills my people, good people.”

Sido was clearly as unimpressed by this idea as Georg was by the man in general. “Any person who works for you deserves to be shot, fucking faggot.”

Georg sat there quietly for a moment processing what had just been said to him, “Right.” He said softly, “Right.”

The sound of two perfectly aimed shots to the man’s face didn’t make Anis jump in the slightest and the little guard was too busy rocking back and forth worrying about his next hit to do anything about the one man who might provide it for him.

“Anis, dear, could you get someone to clear this up for me, there’s a good chap.”

“Do you want me to get rid of the kid?” he offered glancing towards the child who was sitting dazed in a corner.

Georg smiled down at the boy, unusually benevolent considering what had just happened, “No, he needs therapy and a good home. I think you should take him to the hospital personally.” He suggested, eyeing up the patchwork of scars on the kid’s inner elbows with disgust. Georg had a fairly well vocalised revulsion for a person who would put that sort of shit into their own body, and the kind of bastard who would deliberately dose up a twelve year old child?

Everyone knew that Georg wouldn’t hold a shred of regret for what had befallen Sido.

Anis called in the clean-up crew to sort out the stiff and then pulled the kid into his arms, surprisingly calm, though he didn’t know how long that calm would last for if he started moving onto late stage withdrawal.

Just another day at the office.

~*~ 

Anis had first met Georg when he was seventeen. He wasn’t the strangely confident and slightly unbalanced man he was now, instead he was a kid of only thirteen, much like the one the two had rescued from Sido.

There were a group of guys that Anis knew, or at least recognised, beating up the limp teenager. He was on the floor being kicked repeatedly by the ganglanders; foot soldiers all of them. They didn’t have the brains or the control to be able to move up the ranks, but they did rate themselves highly above the street rats. It wasn’t their fault that they didn’t know Georg wouldn’t be a street rat for long. He was moving up the evolutionary scale at a rate that would make Darwin’s head spin.

“Hey,” Anis, then known more often as Bushido, called softly, “What did the kid do?”

“Keep out of it.” One of the men, large, but mostly around the middle, snarled, “Ain’t your business.”

“Well, that’s where I think you’re wrong.” Bushido interjected, “See, this is my patrol and Jost won’t be happy if I go back and tell him that you’re making unnecessary noise.”

That made them stop; at least temporarily.

“What a kid like you do to get on patrol?”

“I, unlike you, have some fucking discretion. Now you gonna tell me what the guy did or not?”

“He stole our lights.” One of the other’s chipped in.

Bushido shook his head, marvelling at the stupidity of some people, “An’ you’re going to disturb the peace because of that? You really are a dumb fuck. Just go get some more.”

“It’s not the first time.” The other defended.

“Oh go suck one if you’re going to be a bitch.” Bushido said with a roll of his eyes, “He’s just a kid; I’m sure you can more than afford a couple of packets if you smoke anyway.”

One of the guy’s feet had started to move back as though he was going to kick the boy again, just to give a demonstration, “That’s not the point.”

“Only, yeah it is.” He insisted, “Because I’ve made it the point. So go now or I’ll go get someone else to deal with you. I would do it myself, but frankly I can’t be bothered to waste the energy.

There was a hesitant split second where Bushido restrained himself from letting his hand reach for his gun –unwilling to start a shootout in such close quarters – before the leader of the small group spat on the ground and led the way out.

The kid still wasn’t moving, only breathing shallowly. He had probably gotten some cracked ribs for his trouble. Bushido would make sure the kid wasn’t unconscious and then phone an ambulance from the payphone around the corner. He probably wouldn’t stick around to see what happened to the kid. He didn’t like authorities, not even the medical ones.

Crouching near the head of the boy he listened to him breathing for a second, “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Upon receiving no reply he reached his hand out to check the kid’s pulse but instead found himself pushed up standing against the wall with a blade pressed dangerously close to his jugular. It was clear that the kid knew all too well how to kill someone quickly with a knife like that.

It made him grin.

“Impressive,” he said, taking a good look at boy now that he was standing, “No offense,” He said, almost casually, “But you don’t look homeless. Or smell it.”

The boy was actually impressively well kept for someone who was stealing cigarettes; clean and even slightly tubby. Puppy fat was not a sign of a homeless kid. There was a chance that he was a normal kid who just stole to be cool or to rebel, but it didn’t explain risking stealing from a gang, not just once, but enough times to get himself beaten up. If he could handle a blade this easily then it was also clear that he hadn’t lived much of an easy life.

“I make enough money to eat well.” He spoke conversationally, but didn’t move the blade, “And it’s easy enough to break into the centre to use the showers.”

The centre was a local shelter for homeless adults, but they had a strict policy on referring children to the state. If this boy had been escaping from foster care, or from home, then he’d definitely want to keep it quiet.

“How about a shower where you don’t have to watch your back?” Bushido asked. This boy had potential and clearly enough brains to get by; if they stuck together he might even be able to go to school once in a while.

“I’m not a hooker.” He said quickly, perhaps he had had unwanted offers before. It was unseemly, but not surprising.

“I didn’t say you were,” Bushido insisted, “I’m not trying to proposition you.”

The boy looked deep into his eyes – there was a definite madness in the gaze already – before slowly lowering his arm, allowing Bushido to move. He was clearly ready to go for the neck again at the slightest provocation. 

“Alright then.”

“Follow me,” he said leading out of the alleyway, “I’ll take you to Jost.”

They walked in an amiable silence for a long time before Anis spoke again, “What’s a bright kid like you doing out here anyway?”

“Stepfather.” He said with a shrug.

Bushido didn’t need any more explanation than that; he himself had left home for very similar reasons.

Those guys were such cunts.

~*~

It turned about that Georg did go to school, but mostly just to sell on stuff to other kids. The majority of his wares were jewellery and cigarettes. He probably could have made a lot more from drugs, but he had an aversion to handing them out since it was apparently cocaine abuse that caused his stepdad to fly into the rages that made him leave home in the first place.

He imprinted on Bushido very early on, following him around on patrol like a puppy. A puppy who was very handy with a knife and not a little unhinged. Unlike everyone else who knew him, Georg refused to call Bushido by anything other than his given name. Eventually Anis stuck once more and the Bushido part of his life was almost forgotten, save for the tattoo on his neck.

It wasn’t long after that that Georg had fought, fucked and killed his way to the very top. He was the sort of man that everyone respected as well as feared. His seemly random acts of kindness and even more unpredictable acts of terror instilled a sense of wariness, but his acts, though seemingly indecipherable, were so well tuned and fitted to the environment that it wasn’t long before every member of Germany’s underground begrudgingly held him in high esteem. What might seem like the most pointless motive would end up being so crucial later that it was vital to the continued growth and prosperity of the company.

Even early on he seemed, to many, as though everything he did was randomised, but everyone who came into contact with him knew that there was some underlying plan that always tied the loose ends together. Though he wasn’t technically in charge until much later by the time he was twenty, everyone was aware who was _really_ running the show.

It was like he played a very convoluted and intricate game of chess with everyone, with each person only permitted to move one piece, forbidden from talking to one another and blindfolded. He orchestrated them perfectly against opponents, but if they ever were to try to take him on they would surely lose.

~*~

When he was seventeen Georg had developed a minor addiction. It was dangerous and definitely illegal and he would feel it itching under his skin throughout his life.

He was into car-jacking.

That and motorbikes, though it was always a challenge. There was more cover inside a car and generally unless someone saw you break the lock then they wouldn’t realise what you were doing. Trying to hotwire a bike was not only more difficult because of the balance issues, but people would definitely notice you doing it.

He knew that a thousand psychologists could come up with very similar theories to explain why he liked the motorbikes better.

Anis didn’t know why he was standing guard, though logic told him this was a pointless endeavour and that he should get back to the job that Jost had set for the two of them -simple property acquisition today- he felt more inclined to indulge in Georg’s occasionally eccentric behaviour. Maybe it was because he knew it wouldn’t be long before Georg was running this town, maybe it was because he was simply more scared of what Georg might do than what Jost would do.

For now, if he was going to just sit back and watch whatever it was that Georg did to steal a motorbike.

“I know that stealing shit can be a high, but seriously doing it this often must be some kind of indication of frustration. Is this better than sex or do you just need to get laid more often?”

Georg didn’t look up from the task in hand. He had been turning a tidy little profit out of these bikes; stolen vehicles were valuable if a person sold to the right market and Anis figured that he didn’t want to get distracted now. “I wouldn’t know.” He remarked succinctly.

That confused Anis somewhat, “Wouldn’t know what?”

“Whether sex feels this good.” He replied sparing a glance in Anis’s direction this time, “To be honest I can’t imagine it would be much different.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I have sex?” Georg asked in return as always able to read Anis like a book. He nodded looking bemused. Georg gave the best approximation of shrug he could whilst keeping his hands steady enough to work. “I’ve just not found a suitable guy yet.”

“Guy?” That shocked Anis. Or maybe it didn’t. He wasn’t really sure.

Georg said nothing, but the look that he sent Anis’s way definitely screamed ‘and what of it?’ Anis didn’t have a problem. Honestly he didn’t, but now that the gaze had been fixed on him he was finding it hard to hold it. He was twenty-one; he shouldn’t feel as though he was being stared down like a bad puppy by a teenager.

“Problem there, Anis?” Georg asked when finally the older man had to lower his gaze.

“No, I’m fine.” 

And he was; it was all fine.

“You might want to work on that whole not-being-a-virgin thing though.” He said when Georg had gone back to fiddling with the bike. The engine had been started ages ago, now he was just making adjustments for fun.

The silence coming from Georg said enough that Anis knew he was expected to keep talking, “Not having had sex is a rarity amongst us. I wouldn’t really worry. I mean despite everything you’re still kind of a kid, but there are some who wouldn’t mind making it into a prize piece to make some quick cash.”

“So, basically, what you’re saying is that I should go have sex so that some seedy guy doesn’t kidnap me and try to whore me out.” He said, pointing out how ridiculous Anis’s concern was. “Would that have happened to you?”

“Well, no.” He admitted, “But you’re a lot prettier than I was. And you’ve pissed off more people.”

He finally stood up straight, no longer hunched over the bike. “Do you seriously think that anyone could touch me, let alone anything else?”

Anis felt stupid, more stupid than he normally felt in Georg’s presence, “No, it’s just I was saying the same thing to Bill before. I don’t know; it just popped into my head, just forget it.”

“Who’s Bill?”

Anis shrugged, “Just this hooker I know.”

“Guess your advice didn’t work so well then.” Georg replied flippantly.

“It’s not really like that.” He said trying to close off the conversation, but in the end Georg was insistent and so Anis started to explain.

Bill was a very stunning person, almost nineteen now. He had decided fairly early on in his life that he wanted to be a prostitute. Despite his insistence he had no way of managing it safely just walking the streets and it wasn’t what he wanted to get into, so he had, at first, gone to the gang for advice on how to start up independently.

There were obvious negotiations, most of the working girls –and boys- on the block were independent, but they still paid some small dividends to the gang for protection from violent customers, or people who would just plain short change them. It wasn’t really cheap, but it was a hell of a lot less than the forty percent per trick that a pimp would charge by being on the door. They got to choose their own hours. They got to choose how many customers they took on. They got to choose when they went out and when they went home.

Bill had been lucky; he hadn’t needed protection. He already had it in the form of his twin brother (a stoic man who worked as many legit jobs as possible to pay the rent, but Bill had never liked his brother working so hard for his sake), but for the advice that the gang had so helpfully and freely given he paid the dividends anyway. Anis was there to help Bill set up his business, drum up interest, and the two quickly became fast friends. They were never more than friends, Tom was too jealous for that, but Anis knew Georg well enough that he knew he wouldn’t be interested in forming an attachment to Bill anyway.

Georg was definitely intrigued though, “Where does he hang out?”

“He doesn’t.” Anis said, “By appointment only; he works out of a two bedroom flat in the centre of Bremerhaven.”

“Very nice, he must charge a lot. Brother live with him then?” Anis nodded in reply, “It’s got to be weird sleeping in the same bed where you work.” Georg commented.

“He doesn’t, that’s what the other bedroom is for.”

“Then where does Tom sleep?” Georg asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

Giving nothing but a meaningful look in return was all that Anis needed to do for Georg to understand.

“Fair enough then,” he said going back to tinker with the bike, he looked like he was thinking something through, as much as he ever seemed like he planned anything.

“What’s his number?”

~*~

Fuck-Me Boots were a signature of Bill’s and he wore them all the time, then again it was a big part of his job. He strode around in them like he owned the place just by being there. In all honesty he probably did. He would make a fantastic asset to the company, but thus far he had evaded all invitations that Georg had offered in the eight years that they had known each other.

Although Bill certainly was nice to have around either way; he had even managed to hook Georg up with a stunning pair of his signature footwear. He liked the idea of them, and definitely the way they looked, but he was pretty certain that he couldn’t pull off wearing them during sex the way Bill could.

Bill striding into the office with Tom trailing behind, however, wasn’t an everyday sight. He much preferred all interactions with customers to be on _his_ terms.

He didn’t take a chair, he never did. He preferred to perch on the edge of the table, showing off how long and lean his body was; every asset that made him a commodity in his world.

“Here to sign up yet, dear?” Georg offered; a bizarrely standard greeting.

“Darling I’ve got a few years good service in me yet. When I hit thirty I promise you can take me out to pasture.”

Georg let his eyes slide over to Bill’s twin just as looming and unique, but always silent and unseen in Bill’s exotic shadow. Sometimes he waited in another room for his brother, but today he seemed reluctant to leave his side. “Then Tomi perhaps?”

“Not that yet either,” Bill said dragging his brother down into a short but filthy kiss. It had stunned Georg a little at first, but he was immune to the sight now (well, mostly, _certain_ parts took some notice still).

“Then why are you here?” Georg asked, he was calm, for now.

“Can’t I just want to pop along to see an old friend?”

“Not during office hours. So, do we want to do a little dance around the issue for a little bit, perhaps make some polite conversation or shall we just get straight to the real issue?”

Bill sighed dramatically, delicately folding his hands over his knee, “Fine.” 

“So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not my problem really,” he started, but then changed tack, “Well, it sort of is, but not directly.”

“Now I’m intrigued.” Georg said with no trace of his usual sarcasm, “What’s happened?”

“There’s this sudden spate of guys being violent towards or short changing the girls on the block. I had thought that they were just coincidences but I overheard this man, Kay I think his name was. He’s been sending the guys in hoping that some of them will cave and start looking for a pimp. I thought since the girls pay you a pretty penny as it is then you might want to intervene.”

“Very altruistic of you.” He remarked, knowing that it wasn’t really in Bill’s nature. He didn’t really mix much with the street girls, there was no snobbery; he knew that just because he worked from a warm bed didn’t mean that he was better than them, but he didn’t like being propositioned out in the open, so he avoided it as much as possible.

“I think he might also know that I heard him,” Bill admitted, “I’m not exactly inconspicuous.”

“Alright,” Georg acquiesced, “I’ll deal with it.”

“Thanks honey,” he said leaning down and kissing the gangster on the cheek before flaunting out in the same way he flaunted in.

“You sure you don’t want to join Tom?” Georg offered again as he reached for the door.

Tom smiled sadly and shook his head using the often used emphatic sign language; ‘No thanks.’

Georg wondered if Tom hadn’t had his voice box ripped out as a teenager whether he would have joined up, it was the very thing that made Georg so eager to get him; he would have been a perfect right hand man. Discreet and trustworthy but every time Tom’s answer was a resolute as Bill’s.

It was easy to notice the silence emanating from his best friend.

“I know what you’re thinking Anis and the answer is no.”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Anis said amused.

“You think too loudly, my dear.” He said, “Bill’s not my type.”

“Never seemed to stop you before.”

Georg shrugged, “He’s a safe companion; people can take their boss being gay a little easier when he’s only ever with a pretty hooker.”

“Since when did you ever care about safe?”

He looked up Anis up and down appraisingly, definitely more his type.

“You have a very good point.”

~*~

Orange was not Anis’s colour; then again serving time for GBH didn’t leave him with a vast amount of wardrobe choice. Georg, sitting on the other side of the glass however, looked fantastic, far more mature than his twenty-one years and dressed in suit so well cut that Anis was surprised that the guy wasn’t arrested on the spot for it screaming ‘Mafiosi’ from every angle.

He wasn’t even the head of the company yet, but he was a very close second in command. Jost was already wary of him, but he was also acutely aware that it was probably better to keep him close and know what he was up to rather than push him away and easily turn the company against him.

“Happy birthday,” Georg said sitting down, “I can only be here for five minutes apparently.”

Anis smiled, he had completely forgotten that it was his birthday, though in the back of his mind he had known it was soon, “No birthday strippers? I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry, you’re just going to have to put up with my ugly mug, love.” Georg sighed, “I tried to call Nat, but she was busy. You’ll just have to watch me instead. Should I start the show now or do you want time to consider the offer until someone better walks by?”

“I don’t know, after a look at some of the guys in here a pretty boy like you is a sight for sore eyes.” Anis replied, playing along, “Do you want to start with the tie? It might be all the action I get for some time.”

“Don’t worry; you won’t be here for long.” Georg said, not kidding this time.

“What part of three years seems short to you?”

“Oh Anis, do you really have that little faith in me?”

“If you’re talking about some convoluted break out then you’ve clearly lost it.” Anis then glanced around, it was probably really stupid to say something like that, but no-one seemed to notice his comment.

“No, no nothing so crass.”

“Time please, gentlemen.” Came the call from the guard, a humourless but fair man by the name of Saki.

“Your appeal is on Friday Anis,” Georg said into standing up and moving away from the desk confidence exuding from every movement, “I expect you back at work on Saturday.”

And he was.

~*~

Georg was pretty proud of himself; twenty-six and he was already sitting behind the desk he had coveted for so long. He was fairly sure that no-one had been given this position at such a young age and he didn’t even have to kill anyone (well, more than normal) to do it. Jost had decided retirement was the best course of action for him and so he had taken his discreetly pregnant girlfriend and taken an extended vacation outside of the country. He had gone to Argentina last that any of the company had heard.

Any rumours that Georg had discreetly and anonymously managed to get Jost indicated for several serious crimes whilst also paying his girlfriend a sizable sum to ‘forget’ her birth-control pills were purely coincidental. Even if Jost found out it would be far too late for him to try and return to the continent let alone get anywhere near Bremen.

The sight of Anis storming towards him was a huge turn-on. It was a not so secret fantasy of his to be bent over the desk by this man, twinks like Bill were alright for relieving the occasional build up of tension but they didn’t really stop Georg’s cravings.

“You fucking bastard,” Anis said taking a swing towards Georg, but missing by a mile in his rage.

“Now, now dear, no need for that.” He said, barely shocked.

“Why not? I heard what you did. I owed Jost everything and you go and do that to him?”

“What? Stop him from getting his brains blown out, given him the kid he was always moaning he wanted?” He rattled off, “It’s a sort of retirement that most of us don’t get. What percentage of people that you know who’ve left the company didn’t do it in a body bag? One percent, or is it less than that?”

“Don’t play your fucking mind games with me.” Anis snarled through gritted teeth, “How can I trust you after this?”

Georg moved towards Anis, that sly smile that hinted at madness coming into play, “Get your gun out.”

Anis’s body language changed completely, from anger to something that wasn’t quite fear, but close enough, in an instant. This was why Anis didn’t argue with him normally, smaller than his friend he might have been, but he was self aware enough to know he was a fucking nutcase as well as being a genius. It was what got him where he was today.

“That wasn’t a fucking suggestion Ferchichi.”

He got his handgun out and let it hang between his fingers like he didn’t know how to handle it. He knew his way around guns and, even if he didn’t, the safety was on. He always kept the safety on unless it was absolutely necessary; he wanted to avoid accidents, but Georg grabbed his hand with the gun, almost mockingly gently, and made him pull the catch off.

Anis’s hand was brought up until the gun was aimed at Georg’s face. “How pissed are you at me right now?” He asked staring down the barrel of the gun in mild amusement. “How much more before you’re itching to pull that trigger?”

“I think I’m pretty close already.” He knew that was probably the wrong thing to say as soon the words left his mouth.

“Do it then, fucking pussy.”

Anis wouldn’t, he wouldn’t ever, but that didn’t mean he was going to stand there and let himself be mocked.

“Come on,” he said, drawing his hand down the barrel in an obscene manner before flicking his tongue against the tip, “be the big man, pull the trigger.”

“Bollocks to this,” he said pocketing his gun and leaving forgetting about the catch, they both knew it would be fine as long as he got out of there. All Georg could hear was the click of his own heels and the sound of his chair being pulled out; Anis had either high tailed it properly or was waiting outside the door to talk again.

Georg meanwhile would sit in front of his desk wearing that face, the one that told everyone he knew he had won. He wore it often enough.

Then again, he won too often.

~*~

Georg had once, when he was twenty four, satisfied his need to be dominated by entering into a short relationship with a cop.

To many in his profession it might have seemed like a stupid and dangerous move, but he knew this guy personally. He was a prefect in his school when they were kids and he had always looked the other way when Georg dealt he wares, as long as Georg did him some favours that made him look good to the teachers from time to time.

He had been very honest with Gustav from the start; what he wanted, what he didn’t want, what they could do for each other. Their set up was mutual information; Georg would give the names of some fake crimes or rival gangs that Gustav could bust to look good to his bosses and in return he kept the rest of the rare, non-crooked cops away from his activities to ensure that Georg could continue his operation in relative peace and quiet.

It was always good to have a cop on your side, but, no matter what, it was a terse relationship. Everyone knew that at the very least the guy was a double agent. Sometimes there were so many bluffs and double bluffs and triple bluffs up into infinity that trying to entangle where a person’s true loyalties rested was a nigh on impossible task.

Georg might not have bothered with it, if it weren’t for the fantastic sex.

A relief from his sexless drought that was unfortunately short-lived.

As was the case in many of these situations, Gustav was shot out by another gang. The guy was ridiculously lucky that it was just a clip to his ribs. Any closer and it might well have been his lungs or his heart. Georg wasn’t surprised, but still slightly disappointed, when he decided to retire from policing _and_ from the gang. Silence for silence they had agreed. Keep everything neutral.

So far that silence hadn’t been broken on either side. Gustav had become something else and for years Georg hadn’t heard from him, but he equally hadn’t heard of his untimely demise.

No news was good news.

~*~

Almost five relatively sexless years after that Georg was sitting behind his desk thinking; he had gotten everything he wanted in life. Anis had come back after that fight ready to put the whole argument behind him, making sure that Georg knew if he ever tried to cross him he would have no problem shooting the guy himself, Bill had, true to his word found employment at the company as soon as he hit thirty and pulled Tom along with him, almost as beautiful with a blade as his brother had been in bed and Georg finally got confirmation of Gustav’s continued survival when he saw the guy playing the drums for an internationally renowned band.

The point was he always got what he wanted. He was good at going the extra mile to take what he wanted. He had never not done it before, so what could stop him now?

Anis coming in with a shallow knife wound to his shoulder wasn’t however high on his list of things that he wanted. That day or ever. He knew he wouldn’t be able to persuade his friend to go to a doctor. He was always scared that with a criminal record already against his name difficult questions would be raised. He was, unfortunately, probably right.

“What the fuck happened this time?” Georg said, not as angry as his words suggested.

Anis shrugged and then seemed to remember that actually it was a pretty bad idea to do that with a stabbed scapula.

He sat Anis down in his chair and removed his shirt to have a look. “You’re lucky,” he mentioned, “I don’t think it needs stitches. Good thing too, because I’m out of practice.”

Georg took off his own jacket and rolled up his sleeve, no sense in ruining a perfectly good suit. He dabbed TCP on the cut to clean it up watching Anis hiss all the while. He knew it would sting, but he had sort of hoped that it would. Served him right for doing something stupid enough to put him into any sort of danger.

“Aw poor baby,” He cooed mockingly, “Do you want me to kiss it better?” 

He leant down and pressed his lips lingeringly to the cut, before pulling back and licking the coppery blood off his lips. Anis’s pupils were as blown as he knew his own to be right now.

It was hardly a shock to either of them when he pulled Georg in for a kiss.

It was however a little surprising at how quickly Georg found himself bent over a desk inside a locked room, harder than he’d ever been in his life, with his best friend fucking him with his fingers uttering the filthiest stream of consciousness that Georg had ever heard. Whispering in that deep gravelly voice about how tight he was, how good he would feel stretched around his cock. The fact that aside from the shirt Anis had yet to take off a single garment, but Georg had been stripped completely naked, laid absolutely bare turned him on no end; this was everything he had imagined.

They weren’t moving fast; they had been over fifteen years building up to this point.

For a guy who took every one of his instructions without fail Anis was a fucking dominatrix in bed – well, on desk- and Georg loved it.

Yes, Georg was the fucking boss, and he’d earned it, he was the owner of control in every part of his life.

Every part except one...


End file.
